


The Calm

by kuriositet



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriositet/pseuds/kuriositet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir came back for Agron, and now he takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Calm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Kind of spoilery? It spoils the spoilers, so to speak, of 308.
> 
> Written for a prompt as part of the Spartacus fic-a-thon on [lj](http://selonbrody.livejournal.com/83245.html), requested by selonbrody/aeternium: _Nasir/Agron - h/c, in which Agron is badly injured after being rescued mid-crucifixion and Nasir tends his wounds_.
> 
> Thanks to Bonnie for the quick beta ♥

“You were supposed to go,” Agron’s hoarse but surprisingly strong voice says. Nasir turns, and in the dim light inside the tent he can still see hints of attempted movement and the shiny reflections of green eyes. 

“That is not what you asked of me. You never asked me to leave.” Even in the semi-darkness, Nasir can easily make out the changes and subtle nuances in Agron’s face as he sighs. 

“I asked that you live.” Nasir moved then, closer to Agron, and by doing so he let the light from the fire outside into the tent to cast both light and shadows across Agron’s bruised and battered face. He sits on the edge of the already slim bed, careful not to touch Agron anywhere he may hurt him, arms and torso in particular.

“The afterlife has yet to claim me. Nor has it claimed you.” Though, looking Agron’s severely injured and patched up body over, Nasir thinks it is not for lack of trying.

“Nasir—” Agron attempts to sit up and Nasir firmly holds him down with a hand on his shoulder.

“Agron, I went with Spartacus and the others like you wanted, and then I came back for you.” He moves his hand to cup Agron’s chin and smiles at the thought of how many times their roles have been reversed. “Now let me take care of you.”

 

Nasir tries not to worry about the time it takes Agron’s wounds to heal, but having Crassus still breathing down their necks makes it hard to avoid. Agron does not make it any easier, being too impatient to really give himself time to heal, and Nasir threatens to have Lugo and Castus strap him down if Agron does not stop trying to get up.

“That shit is still around?” Agron asks and winces as Nasir unwraps the bandage around his chest to take a look at the long gash running across it.

“That shit came up with the plan that saved your life.” He cleans the wound using hot water and herbs they are almost out of, but smiles to himself because at least Agron is looking better and not worse every time Nasir tends to him.

“I would rather have had him come up with a plan to take you, Lugo, Saxa and anyone else who is still alive far from here, far from the reach of the Republic.”

“When he does, I would have you with us,” Nasir says. What he does not say is how he does not think there is enough time for such a plan to be executed. He wraps Agron’s chest with fresh cloth and looks to his hands next. “How do they feel?”

“Better.” They look that way too. “You take good care of me. You make me better.”

 

Agron keeps improving and within a few days he can sit up on his own with only minor discomfort and insists that he’s ready to stand up and walk too. His feet have been healing slower than his hands and chest, and while that had worried Nasir, it had still been a relief they were healing at all. A man could lose a hand and yet live and fight. To lose a foot would be much harder.

“Are you sure you are not in any pain?” Nasir asks, receiving a sigh and an eye-roll in reply. “I think you can try standing up today.” Nasir had been expecting a positive response, yet it had never occurred to him that Agron’s reaction would be to cup the back of Nasir’s head and kiss him. It is light, almost chaste, yet it stirs something within him and it feels like it has been a lifetime since they last lay together. Maybe it has.

“If you can walk, you can leave the Medicus’ tent,” Nasir says in a lighter tone. He feels Agron’s thumb tracing his lips and realizes he is smiling. “Join me in ours.”

“When do we go?” Agron cups his chin in his hand, and Nasir looks up at him. Agron’s green eyes burn with the same fire they always have and it is a welcome sight, even now, days after the worst of his injuries had healed.

“When I have rewrapped your feet. When you have proved you can stand and walk at all.”

 

Later that night they are in their tent, though it hardly feels that way as Nasir has spent most nights in the Medicus’ tent with Agron. The bed is large enough to fit them both, though, and Nasir takes great pleasure in just feeling the heat of Agron’s sleeping body next to his. The day has been long, he thinks, recalling all the conversations and discussions of what the remaining rebels are to do next. It has been a quiet few days since they pulled Agron from the cross, and no one likes it.

“It is the calm before the storm,” Agron whispers and Nasir realizes he has been voicing his thoughts out loud.

“I pray the storm will never come,” he replies, pushing his head up on his elbow to more easily look at Agron. “And if it does, I pray to face it by your side.”

“I would never have us parted again.” They are words Nasir has been waiting to hear, words he has been afraid to never receive.

“Nor I,” he says, sealing the promise with a kiss. “Yet you were right to have us parted before, or we wouldn’t be here now.”

“I still ask that you live.”

“And I ask that you live with me.”


End file.
